


You Make Me Feel Like Home

by LadyLondonderry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cats, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a cat out behind the coffee shop where Louis works.</p><p>There's also a homeless boy sometimes.</p><p>Louis likes to feed both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make Me Feel Like Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radadusta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radadusta/gifts).



> A gift to Rosketch on tumblr, as it is her birthday! (well, it was yesterday. I'm just not good at finishing things on time).

Out back of the coffee shop, behind the single picnic table provided for smokers are the two bins where Louis has to drag the rubbish to a few times a shift.

He detests this part of his job more than any other part. Being the shortest (not that he’ll ever admit it), Louis thinks he shouldn’t have to be the one doing all of this manual labour. Make Liam do it, the boy clearly spends hours working those muscles of his to toned perfection,

He steps up to the bin and heaves the bag up into it, counting himself lucky that no coffee spilled onto his clothes in the process.

He’s considering taking a smoke break now, since he’s outside anyway, but his thoughts are interrupted by a squeak.

And a second later, another squeak.

Suddenly, _something_ is squeaking incessantly - it sounds like an animal, and it sounds desperate.

Glancing around, Louis can’t see anything out of the ordinary. He traces the source of the noise to the bin that he just put the bag in - was there something in the bag?

He’s loath to touch the bag again ( _so_ many people threw away half finished drinks and now it’s all spilling and collecting in the bottom of the bag). He grabs the bag and gives a swift tug upward. The squeaking stops immediately and something small and furry claws its way up the side of the bag in his hands.

When it gets to the top, the animal takes a flying leap off and onto the concrete below, sort of tumbling down into a sodden ball of fur.

Louis lets the bag drop back into the bin and takes a few steps back from where the animal landed - what if it’s rabid? What even _is_ it?

The animal unfurls itself after a moment, turning its head this way and that as if checking for injuries.

The thing is, is Louis still isn’t sure what sort of animal it is. Its fur is matted and covered in what Louis assumes is coffee. Below the drinks, the fur is a sort of chestnut brown, so maybe it’s a squirrel or chipmunk? But it’s a little on the large side of reither of those, the fur a little too fluffy, the tail too long.

Which, could be a cat? But cat’s don’t have brown fur that colour, Louis is pretty sure. At the very least, he’s never seen a cat that colour before.

Whatever it is, it seems oblivious to Louis as it sits right in the middle of the back alley and begins grooming itself, licking the coffee out of its fur.

And, oh, should it really be doing that? Some of what’s on its fur is probably a mocha drink. Dogs are allergic to chocolate, are all animals? God, he doesn’t want it to _die_ \- what would his sisters think of they ever found out he just let a scrawny little animal kill itself?

He doesn’t need that on his conscience, no thankyou.

He approaches it from behind, quietly, trying not to scare it off. There was no need, probably, as the little animal seems completely caught up in its grooming.

Louis grabs it around the middle with both hands and scoops it into the air in front him and _gross_ it’s _sticky_.

The thing lets out an ungodly loud squeak when it’s lifted off the ground and begins thrashing in his grip, tail lashing back and forth and covering his arms in coffee remains.

It wriggles and squeaks pitifully in his grip, and Louis is somewhat reminded of why his mum never let them have more than a goldfish growing up. Pets make such a _mess_ , he’s getting splattered by the lashing tail and desperately flailing limbs.

Still, he thinks, in the end he’s doing this for the animal’s greater good. Hopefully.

Shouldering his way back into the kitchen, he rolls his eyes at the strange look Niall gives him.

“Sink free?” he asks, still holding the creature an arm’s length in front of him.

Niall nods. “Mostly. Josh left a few mugs in one side. But,” he shrugs, “What’re you planning to do? Drown the poor thing?”

Louis gives him a scandalized look. “What do you take me for - a murderer? I’m just going to give it a bit of a wash!”

Niall looks skeptical but follows him back to the sink anyway. Doesn’t he have work to do?

“That thing’s going to scratch you to high heaven, Lou. Surprised it hasn’t already.”

Louis is too, actually. For as many times as the thing has managed to swat at his arms, it’s not left any marks, which he quite appreciative of, thankyouverymuch.

“It’s too pathetic to do any damage,” he says. The creature confirms this by continuing to squeak pitifully at him.

Niall moves the few mugs out of the bottom of the sink for him, and Louis carefully lowers the small mass of fur into it. The thing scrambles, but its paws can’t find any purchase on the metal of the sink bottom, and Louis is easily able to hold it there with one hand on its back. With the other, he navigates the tap, adjusting the knobs until moderately warm water is streaming out.

The poor thing is shaking now, not directly under the spray but eyeing it warily, and Louis does feel immensely sorry for it. Still, all that coffee and chocolate should really be cleaned out of its fur. The thing could spend days trying to get that mess out on its own, and that would probably be quite bad for it.

He takes ahold of it with both hands again and maneuvers it under the gentle flow from the tap. The thing begins thrashing again, it’s squeaks more desperate, but it’s so small and if it has claws it’s not using them, so Louis is easily able to work the water through the fur on its torso in an attempt to work out the mess.

“Think strawberry hand soap will hurt it?” he asks Niall. “Dish soap seems like a bad idea.”

Next to him, Niall shrugs. “I know squat-all about animals, never had any growing up.”

“Neither did I,” Louis says. The creature seems to have used up its energy, mostly limp in his arms now. With one hand, he begins carefully wiping around its face. The fur is shorter there, but still equally matted. “Both of them seem like a bad idea, really. Don’t they make animal shampoos? It probably needs that.”

Niall snorts. “You don’t even know what kind of animal it is and you want to buy it shampoo?”

Louis continues rubbing through its fur, the thing only letting out the occasional pitiful squeak. “‘Course not, it’s just that I feel bad for it. I squashed the thing with a bin bag earlier, I at least owe it a wash up. Speaking of which, have we got any dishtowels?”

Niall nods and wanders off to fetch some. The thing may not be perfectly clean now, but it’s much better. It also weighs twice as much from now much water is soaked through the mass of its fur.

Niall returns with two moderately soft hand towels. Louis takes them from him after turning off the water, and carefully wraps the animal in them. It’s shivering and he feels guilty for probably having traumatized it.

Having wrapped it up securely like a burrito, with only its head poking out, Luis cradles the animal to his chest. “If anyone asks, I’m going on lunch break,” he tells Niall.

Niall rolls his eyes. “It’s just Zayn and I for the next three hours, you know we couldn’t give two fucks.”

“And that’s why you’re one of my best mates,” Louis says.

Having animals (especially back alley animals) inside a coffee shop is probably very unhygienic and against several health codes, but it’s early in the afternoon on a university campus and Louis sincerely doubts anyone will bother to complain. He moves through to the front of the cafe and gives a nod to Zayn as he passes by.

(Zayn doesn’t even blink at the bundle in his arms).

The sun is shining outside, but even on the brightest of days, the cafe tends to take on a dark, dusty sort of composure. Scanning the room, Louis finds that one of the large and cushy (if not a bit threadbare) armchairs in the far corner is unoccupied, so he makes his way over and settles in, careful not to jostle the bundle cradled close to his chest.

“Let’s take a look at you then,” he coos softly at the animal resting against his chest. It’s squirming a bit, and Louis takes pity on it, unrolling the towels and letting it tumble out onto his lap. He rubs the drier of the towels along its long chestnut brown fur in an attempt to continue to dry it.

Now that it’s not a matted mess, Louis notes that the creature does look decidedly more cat-like, with a long tail and pointy little ears sticking up above vibrant green eyes.

It’s odd, because he’s still pretty sure that he’s never seen a cat with brown fur before, but the more he takes in the animal’s appearance, the more he thinks it can’t be anything else. It looks pretty young, too; halfway between kitten and full-grown cat.

The cat does not seem at all averse to the gentle scrub of the towel, and begins making itself at home in his lap, eventually curling into a loose ball of fur. A deep, rumbling purr begins sounding from it after a few minutes, even as it continues to stare up at him with wide green eyes.

Eventually Louis stops scrubbing it with the towel, putting it aside in favor of carding his fingers through its soft fur. Now that it’s mostly dry, the cat’s fur is turning out to be surprisingly curly. It brings the fluff to a whole new level, and as it’s still drying, the fur is continuing to fluff until the little animal in his arms resembles a tribble more than an alley cat.

“Well you’re a little furball, aren’t you, Curly?” Louis remarks to it, scratching lightly behind its ears and in turn hearing it purr even louder in response.

He’s always been fairly indifferent to small fluffy animals, it was his sisters who begged and pleases for something to hug growing up. Yet now he can definitely see why people gush over cats, as the one in his lap sticks out a little pink tongue to continue its grooming bath that was so rudely interrupted earlier.

Louis simply sits and watches it for a while as it goes about grooming its back, front paws, back paws, and oh…

“Well you’ve certainly got no shame,” Louis laughs as Curly proceeds to stick one hind elg up in the air to wash the underside of.

One thing Louis is fairly certain of now though, Curly is a boy kitten. An apparently well-endowed boy kitten.

“Nobody wants to see your exhibitionism, bud,” Louis says, tapping the leg Curly has raised into the air.

Curly immediately retracts it and then seems to try to give Louis a hurt look, but it’s a little ruined by the fact that he has forgotten to put his tongue back in his mouth.

The little fluffball is so cute, Louis even thinks of snapchatting a video of it to his sister Lotte. He struggles to remove his phone from his pocket without disturbing the cat in his lap, and when he finally gets it he realises with dismay that his break should have been over almost ten minutes prior.

But… the cat in his lap is so cute, and purring so contentedly, and it’s even starting to knead his thigh with its soft little toe beans… How could Louis be so cruel?

On the other hand, he _would_ like to keep his job. That’s also an important thing to consider. 

Carefully, Louis scoops both of his hands under Curly’s soft tummy and lifts him off of his lap. Curly lets out a squeak, but goes limp as a ragdoll, clearly accepting his fate.

Louis stands up slowly and makes his way back through the coffee shop. He’s never really been taught how to hold a cat, so he sort of holds Curly awkwardly in front of him, all his limbs dangling down but the cat still doesn’t put up a fuss, even starts purring again after a minute.

“Now you stop that,” Louis chides him. “Quit acting all happy when I’m just about to kick you out, I don’t want to have to spend the rest of the day feeling guilty about this.”

Curly swishes his tail back and forth in Louis’ face and continues to purr.

Louis shoulders his way back out the back door and bends down, gently placing Curly on the pavement in front of him.

The cat turns around and stares up at him with large soulful eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Louis argues. “We didn’t even know each other this morning! I don’t owe you anything.”

Curly continues to stare at him.

Louis suddenly finds himself aware of the chill breeze filtering through the alley, and the lack of soft grassy areas for a kitten like Curly to fall asleep on.

He fears he’s in too deep when he wrestles off the hoodie he’s wearing under his apron.

“You’d better appreciate this,” he mutters with little malice in his voice as he folds the hoodie up into a decent cushion shape and setting it beside the stoop.

Curly seems to appreciate it very much, as he immediately stalks over and settles onto the hoodie, purring once again.

Louis decides this is probably his cue to leave, quickly before he becomes too attached.

(It’s actually far too late for that).

\---

By the time Louis gets off work, the sun has long ago set.

Being the last one closing the coffee shop has its perks, however, as his arms are now filled with all the slightly stale treats from the display case, as well as a toffee latte made from the last of the coffee.

He slips out the back door and juggles the treats in his arms in order to have a free hand to lock the door with. Now that night has fallen, the wind has returned with a vengeance, reminding Louis of the hoodie he left outside for Curly earlier. He wonders (hopes) that maybe the cat is still there, but looking where he left his hoodie earlier reveals no sign of either. Louis wonders if the cat has really managed to drag his slightly oversized hoodie away - it didn’t seem strong enough earlier, or at least not at all inclined to hard labour. 

Do cats build nests? He’s not sure how cats live in the wild. Is Curly making a burrow with his hoodie? That’s a rather nice thought, although he’s certainly feeling cold without it.

Oh well, either way he has more hoodies at home. 

He begins walking again, trying to move quickly in order to get back home where it’s warm. He’s not more than ten steps though, before he runs into The Boy.

 

The first time he ran into The Boy, back when he had just started his job at the cafe, Louis nearly jumped out of his skin in fright and, although he’d never admit it, let out quite a high pitched shriek.

That, of course, woke The Boy up from where he had been sleeping along the hedge in the alley. He’d jumped a little and stared at Louis with wide eyes, not moving from his space on the ground.

Louis had felt absolutely horrible about disturbing the sleep of a clearly homeless boy who must be around his own age, if not younger. He’d stared awkwardly at The Boy the The Boy had stared nervously back until Louis - in what he hoped was a peace offering - thrust his slightly stale cookies toward him with a whispered “Here!”

The Boy continued to stare at Louis for another moment, and then at the food in his hand, before reaching out shakily and snatching it from him.

Since that day, most evenings when Louis closes the store he walks past The Boy in the alley.

He’s grown quite fond of The Boy, really. The Boy doesn’t ask for food or money, doesn’t even speak for the most part, but he looks grateful for anything Louis happens to hand him.

He just feels so bad because the kid is clearly young, and doesn’t deserve whatever it is that has left him out here.

Tonight The Boy is fast asleep, with the hedge above him protecting him from the wind. Not feeling the need to wake him up, Louis places the latte and most of his cookies on the ground near The Boy’s head.

The Boy often wakes up when Louis walks by, sleeping in the outdoors probably makes one a light sleeper, but tonight he must be really out of it, because he only shifts a little, holding the backpack in his arms a little tighter.

It’s then, when Louis is pulling away to continue home, he realises that the pattern on The Boy’s hoodie is familiar. Is that his hoodie? It must be. The Boy, for a long as Louis has known him, has always worn an old stretched out white shirt and motley green beanie.

Today is much too cold for just a t-shirt, though, as Louis is quickly becoming aware of. He’s glad that someone has put that hoodie to good use, since Curly apparently didn’t want it. He’s feeling pretty happy that The Boy is wearing his hoodie.

Is that a weird creeper thought?

Louis hurries home before the chill gets worse.

\---

It’s two days later that Louis next has to work, showing up at the coffee shop at half two. The sky is overcast and the wind brisk. He’s wrangled a red sweater from the back of his closet, probably (hopefully) washed, and is sincerely looking forward to the hot coffee he’s going to pour himself when he gets inside.

He enters through the front doors and gets a couple nods from the regulars a well as a short “You’re late,” from Liam (which, okay, but only by about ten minutes, which doesn’t really count).

He dons his monogrammed apron in the back, and before he can even get a proper hello out, Niall is thumbing at the full rubbish bin behind him.

“Well a nice fuck you to you as well,” Louis says, no real malice behind his words.

Niall shrugs, unbothered. “I’ll buy you a drink next time we go out if you quit complaining afor a whole day about having to take out the trash.”

“Fat chance,” Louis says, already getting the bag tied up. “What’s the point of a horrible job if I can’t even complain about it?”

“Suit yourself,” Niall replies, going back to the muffin batter in his bowl as Louis drags the bag toward the door.

Outside it’s still just as cold as it was two minutes ago when he walked in, and he makes quick work of dumping the bag in the bin, but the second he turns around he’s stopped by the sight of his hoodie, neatly folded up next to the stoop where he had initially left it the day before.

And there, sitting contentedly right in the middle of it, is Curly, looking up at him with those big green eyes.

“Hello,” says Louis, surprised and somewhat delighted that the cat has apparently returned.

Curly blinks at him.

“I have to go back inside now,” Louis says, motioning to the door.

Curly stares at him.

“Well… yeah,” Louis says. He realises he doesn’t have to offer any explanations to acat, but it still seems rather rude to just walk away. He feels like he is adequately excused when Curly begins to bathe himself though, and slips back into the kitchen.

“Niall,” he says, “Curly’s back.”

“The hairstyle?” Niall asks. “Never. I’m not gonna end up looking like that N’Sync member with the ramen hair.”

Louis shakes his head. “No! That cat from a few days ago. He’s sleeping out back.”

“Good place for it I suppose,” Niall says. “Lots of half-finished food and probably some mice.”

“Gross,” Louis groans. “I touched that cat, don’t talk about him eating mice.”

“It is what it is, mate,” Niall says. “Now hurry up and go take over Liam’s shift. He’s got a date tonight and is nervous enough as it is without having to worry about being late as well.”

“Liam’s got a _date?_ ” Louis shrieks. “And he didn’t tell _me?_ ”

He’s out of the kitchen like a shot and bounds up to Liam behind the counter, who is handing an old woman her change.

“Liam. Liam. Li.” Louis chants. “Li Li Li Li-”

Liam slaps a hand over his mouth. “Anything that Niall happens to have mentioned, it isn’t true,” he says. Louis licks his hand until Liam removes it with a disgusted look.

“Who is she?” Louis asks. “Do I know her? Did she ask you out? Did you ask her out? Did you throw up afterward?”

“Bye, Tommo.” Liam darts to the back before Louis can ask anything else, and Louis can’t go after him because another customer steps up for their order. Maybe Niall will tell him later if he’s nice.

By the time his break rolls around though, he’s forgotten all about asking Niall anything. Two girls managed to spill their drinks down his apron, one while attempting to flirt with him, and an older gentleman spent a good fifteen minutes bickering about the prices of the baked goods, backing up a line to the door that took him forever to get through afterward.

So, Louis is a little tired and a lot in need of a break. He makes his way out to the back alley with a scone and his pack of cigs, but the second he’s out there, all the worries of the day are forgotten.

“Hello again Curly,” Louis says, reaching out a hand to scratch behind the ears of the little cat, still contentedly sitting where he had been when Louis first walked inside hours earlier.

Curly blinks and lets out an almighty yawn. He lazily stretches his front legs and then gets up to stretch the back ones as well.

He’s adorable.

Louis settles himself on top of the picnic table, his legs dangling onto the connected bench.

Curly joins him after a moment, jumping up and stalking around the perimeter of the table.

“Hey there,” Louis coos. He’s not sure how to talk to a cat, not having grown up with one. Curly doesn’t seem to mind, stalking over and headbutting the hand Louis holds out to him.

Within a few minutes, there’s the warm weight of a purring cat in his lap as Louis pets him with one hand and nibbles his scone with the other. Once in awhile pieces of scone will crumble onto his lap or directly onto Curly’s fur, and the cat immediately licks them up.

“You’re a weird one,” Louis tells him. “I don’t think cats are supposed to like bread. Maybe I’ll bring you some fish next time, yeah?”

A larger piece of scone falls, this one with a fair amount of clotted cream on it, and Curly goes after it with a vengeance, licking where it had fallen long after it’s gone. Louis laughs at him and eventually Curly looks up with an affronted look. His tongue is sticking out again though and Louis just laughs harder.

He spends the rest of break threading his fingers through Curly’s naturally messy fur. When his half hour is up, it’s almost painful to have to move the cat off of his lap. He picks Curly up and moves him back to the hoodie that he had been sleeping on earlier.

Curly’s not having it though, and immediately gets up to follow Louis inside. This is an issue. Louis is already too attached and this cat is making it more difficult. It takes two more times moving Curly back onto the hoodie and Curly getting up again to follow him before he gives up and attempts to distract the cat by carefully placing him down and then covering him with the hoodie.

He makes a run for it and gets inside while Curly still seems to be debating whether or not to get out from under the warm alcove Louis provided.

\---

It becomes routine surprisingly fast. Louis’ never found himself looking forward to showing up to work before, but he starts showing up early to spend a bit of time with Curly. The cat eventually learns to be a bit sneakier, not trying to follow him inside every time, but once in awhile will dart into the kitchen when Louis isn’t paying attention. He becomes quite popular among all the staff, and is fed more than a few free handouts from people’s lunches, but will only ever start purring when he’s in Louis’ lap, which Louis is absolutely delighted by.

Curly is almost never there when Louis leaves at the end of his shift though. He’s not sure where he disappears off to, but Louis assumes it’s somewhere warm since The Boy has continued to claim his hoodie when he sleeps out back. As the season progresses toward winter, he considers leaving a blanket outside too, because the poor boy still looks so cold. He also starts warming up the old bakery things that he brings at the end of the night. The first time that The Boy wakes up to Louis bringing him a gooey hot cookie, the look of pure adoration on his face as he takes them both warms and breaks Louis’ heart. It’s a regular thing after that.

\---

“Liam if I have to hear one more time about how much you love this girl I swear I will pour our entire backstock of vanilla syrup down your pants.”

Liam glares at him. “Just because for once I’m lucky in love doesn’t give you the right to be rude about it, Tommo.”

“You’ve been going on dates with her for less than a month!” Louis throws his hands up in exasperation. Curly, acting as a little space heater in his lap, gives a squeak of protest at being jostled. “See, Curly agrees with me,” Louis says. “I’ve never met such a sickeningly sweet couple in my life.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Sophia and I are going to the Halloween festival this weekend. I think Niall and his boyfriend are going too, you should find someone to bring and tag along with us, I don’t think you’ve had a proper date in months.” 

“Sure Liam, let me just pick up a boy on my way home from work tonight and we’ll be as solid as you and Sophia by the weekend,” Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m in the middle of a post grad, when do you think I would have had time to get myself a boyfriend?”

“Well you’ve managed to get yourself a cat, I figure a boyfriend can’t be that much harder.” Liam’s phone lights up and he picks it up off the table instantly, giggling a moment later about whatever Sophia must have written. Louis is disgusted.

“I’m disgusted.” Louis downs the last of his latte and picks up Curly, cradling him to his chest as he gets off the picnic table. “Now distract this little guy for me while I run in, I don’t want to spend the next half hour playing fetch and waiting until he’s run far enough away to slip inside.”

Liam takes Curly from him, who immediately starts squeaking and wriggling in protest. “You know he’s not a dog, right?” Liam calls after him. “Like, he’s not supposed to play fetch!”

\---

Louis thinks it’s unfair of Liam to tell him that he needs a boyfriend. Liam is the one who will spend months pining after someone before even getting the courage to go up and speak to them. Louis just doesn’t currently have anyone in his life that he feels like pursuing.

These are his thoughts as he opens the bakery display case and goes to pitch the last of the specialty “s’mores” cookies that almost nobody bought. Niall had thought that they were a great idea - they were his own invention - but it turns out that marshmallows need to be baked at a very low temperature, or else they caramelize and basically turn to rock. Most of the cookies Louis handed out to people he saw thrown in the garbage or on the sidewalk outside. 

He says his goodbyes to Josh who had been working most of the evening with him, and locks the door after he goes. Grabbing his drink for the night - hot chocolate - and a bag full of coookies and heads out the back door.

The first thing that hits him is a smell that almost has him gagging. Someone has clearly been sick in the alleyway, and judging by the sound of retching they still are. Locking the door behind him, Louis sprints a few steps down the way until he sees The Boy, on all fours and ruining a perfectly good hedge by being sick into it.

“Hey…” Louis isn’t sure what to say. Why didn’t he go back inside and get a cup of water or something? He can’t now, the shop is already alarmed for the night. “Hey, you alright?”

He puts a hand on The Boy’s back, who jumps a little but other than that doesn’t respond. Louis doubts that he’s sick from a night of drinking, like most people would be at this hour, and is feeling progressively worse the more he thinks about it. Sleeping in an alley is one level of awful, but being ill all night out here? Would be too much to bear.

He waits a few more minutes until The Boy seems to recover himself, taking big gulps of air and then sitting back and turning to look at Louis.

“How you feeling?” Louis asks, and then mentally slaps himself for such a ridiculous question.

“...Poorly,” the boy rasps out and his voice is much deeper than Louis had anticipated.

“I’m Louis,” he takes his hand off the boy’s back and holds it out to shake, which the boy does after a minute.

“Harry,” he says, and Louis can smell the bile on his breath.

“Harry,” he says, “Are you some sort of serial killer or otherwise wanted by the law?”

Harry shakes his head, eyes wide.

“Alright then,” Louis decides right then and there. “You’re staying at my house tonight then.”

Harry fishmouths for a moment before he finds his voice, albeit still quite croaky. “No- I couldn’t-”

“Yes you could, now come on,” Louis says brusquely. Years of arguing with his sisters has taught him that the best response is to simply not give them any other option. “I only live about ten minutes down the road, it’s not far.”

He stands up and offers a hand to Harry, who hesitantly takes it after a moment.

They walk to his house in silence, mostly. Harry starts coughing once in awhile but he doesn’t vomit again.

“Do you need, like, medication or something?” Louis asks at one point and Harry shakes his head.

“Just- just sick,” he says and that’s about as much as Louis gets from him the whole walk home.

Louis’ quite glad that his mum visited this last weekend, because he always cleans when she comes over, and the couch is uncovered enough that when they get in, all he has to do is add a pillow and a few blankets to it.

“I’ve got an extra toothbrush under the sink that you can use,” he tells Harry as he makes the couch into a bed. “There’s cups and water in the kitchen over there of course, and if there’s anything else you need, I’m in the bedroom right over there.” He straightens up and looks at Harry, who has been taking in the room with wonder. “I’ll get you some water now, is there anything else you need?”

Harry seems to take a moment to snap back to reality, after staring with odd intensity at the cord dangling from the ceiling fan. He shakes his head so fast that Louis worries he’ll get dizzy and start vomiting again. “Thank you,” is all he says though and sits on the edge of the couch.

“Make yourself at home,” Louis says as he traipses off to the kitchen for water. Returning a moment later with a glass, he notes that Harry seems to already be asleep, not even fully on the bed.

It makes sense, Louis thinks, since he’s certainly used to sleeping much less comfortable and warm places. Still, he’s probably not that comfortable half off the couch and still with his shoes and beanie on. 

Louis leaves the glass at his feet and attempts to cover Harry with a blanket at least. Despite his horrid breath whenever Louis gets too close, Harry looks peaceful and angelic, and snuggles into the blanket the second Louis throws it over him.

He turns the light off on the way to his own room, and doesn’t once think to question the absurdity of the fact he just let a complete stranger into his home to sleep on his couch.

\---

When Louis wakes up the next morning, it takes a bit for him to remember the oddity that was last night. When he does, he slips out of bed and makes his way out to the living room to see if Harry is feeling any better now.

Except, Harry’s not _here_. 

Or is he? Harry is clearly nowhere in the living room, but on the couch where he had been sleeping the night before are his clothes. All of his clothes; beanie, shirt, trousers, pants and boots. Is Harry naked somewhere? That’s an absurd thought. No, he must have just grabbed some of Louis’ clothes, right? Except Louis definitely would have woken up if Harry had come into his room and rifled through his drawers. And he’s not taking a shower, as the bathroom is clearly empty.

Louis begins to wonder what Harry does when he’s not sleeping in the alley. Is he an exhibitionist?

Just as he’s going to go check if perhaps Harry is cooking breakfast naked in his kitchen, Louis feels something rubbing against his ankle. He jumps at the feeling and looks down and-

“Curly?” Louis asks in shock. He bends down and scoops the cat up. “How did you get in my house?” This is absurd. “Are you Harry’s cat?” he asks, but Curly doesn’t offer up any useful information, only starts purring.

“Right,” Louis says, cradling the cat in his arms. He has no clue how Curly got here, but he’s not really complaining. “I think you need breakfast. And I need to find the boy these clothes belong to.” He walks through to the kitchen, which is as empty as the rest of the house, and fills a bowl with water for Curly. His refrigerator is next to empty but he finds a half eaten packet of ham for sandwiches and tears some off for Curly to munch on.

While Curly is having breakfast, Louis does a quick sweep of the house. Harry is definitely not anywhere inside. So why on earth did he leave his clothes on the couch? About a dozen scenarios flit through Louis’ mind to explain this situation, each more bizarre than the last. 

Eventually out of ideas, Louis decides to go through the pockets of Harry’s trousers for some sort of I.D. He doubts Harry will have one, really. Being homeless probably means he’s never gotten a driver’s license.

In the back right pocket he finds a wallet, sure enough, and is pleasantly surprised to open it and find a license right inside. _Harry Styles_ it reads, _DOB 01/02/1994_. So he was right, Harry is more than two years younger than him!

That doesn’t help him locate Harry though, and Louis checks the rest of the wallet. There’s a bit of small change in an inner pocket, a student I.D. from secondary with a ridiculous looking picture of Harry from years past, and a business card for one _Gemma A. Styles, Newspaper Columnist_.

They had to be related, right? There aren’t that many people with the last name Styles. Actually, Louis doesn’t know _anybody_ else with the last name Styles. He thinks it sounds like a name a popstar would make up.

He fishes his phone out of his back pocket and dials the number written on the card. By this point, Curly has apparently finished off the ham and plods his way over to where Louis is sitting,jumping up onto his lap and making himself at home as always.

It feels like the phone rings for hours. Louis starts to question what exactly he’s supposed to say. _Hello, Harry disappeared off my couch at some point in the night. Is he a nudist?_

No, he probably shouldn’t say that.

After so many rings Louis starts to wonder if the phone line is disconnected, someone picks up and a female voice sounds. “Hello?”

“Hi, um, is this Gemma?”

“This is she, who may I ask is calling?”

Very professional, Louis thinks. “Yeah, um, my name is Louis. Listen, I was just wondering, are you related to a Harry Styles?”

“Harry?” She seems to perk up at the name. “Is he there? Have you found him?”

Louis wonders the last time Harry called home. Apparently not for a while. “Um, I think so? It’s a little confusing, really, because he slept on my couch last night, or at least I think he did, but this morning he’s gone? But he’s sort of left his clothes behind, and I was wondering if this is a common thing…”

Gemma, on the other end, starts laughing. “That sounds exactly like him. Tell me, is there a cat anywhere nearby?”

Louis looks down in his lap. “Yeah, our alleycat showed up overnight too. Why, does he belong to Harry?”

“Sort of- hey, can I come over? I swear I can explain everything. Where are you, anyway? Are you in Holmes Chapel?

“Holmes Chapel? Um, no I go to university in Manchester. I can text you the address...?”

“Manchester!” exclaims Gemma. “How on earth did he get out there? Yeah, send me the address. I’ll be there in under an hour.”

They say their goodbyes and he hangs up and texts her his information, and then has to play the waiting game.

Belatedly, Louis wonders if it was really a good idea for him to contact Gemma when Harry so clearly had been on his own for so long. Did he just get Harry in trouble? He still has no idea why the boy was on the streets to start with. He sits on the couch and worries and cuddles Curly, thankful all this weirdness is happening during a day he has off work and class.

A knock sounds at his door three quarters of an hour later and Louis stops the smurfs game he had up on his phone to pass the time. Scooping up Curly in one hand, he opens the door with the other.

The woman on the other side looks close to his age, with brown hair tipped blond and a big smile. “Gemma?” he questions.

“Louis!” she says. “Hello! Yes, I’m Gemma. Sped the whole way here, I swear. Do you mind if I come inside?”

Louis nods and stands aside to let her in, closing the door behind her. “So about Harry…”

“Yeah, where is that cat you said appeared here?” she interrupts him, placing her purse on the floor.

Louis motions to Curly, still in his arms. “This is Curly, the alley cat who lives behind the coffee shop I work at. He must have followed me home last night, but why?”

Gemma bends down until she’s face to face with Curly. “You’ve had us all worried sick,” she says. Then, to Louis, “Mind if I take him?”

Louis holds Curly out. Gemma is clearly not too fussed about bothering to answer his questions. She takes the cat from him and Curly, who was purring before, begins purring louder (Louis’ _not_ jealous). 

“Now Louis, I need to explain something to you,” Gemma says. 

“Yeah?” Louis asks.

“I can’t really explain it,” Gemma says.

“Oh,” Louis says. He’s starting to question letting Gemma into his house.

“No, I can! I swear! It’s just weird and you’ll probably not believe it for a second so bear with me, yeah?” At Louis’ nod she continues. “Harry and I come from a family of witches.”

“Um,” Louis says.

“No no, but not weird ones!” Gemma hastens to add. “Like, not modern day witches who get all freaky with demons and stuff. We’re old magic, like old money, but older, you know?”

“Not really,” Louis says.

“Anyway, the point is, about six months ago Harry and I are messing around he tells me, he says he wants one of those true love spells. You know, the whole _you’ll meet your true love and they’ll break the spell_ sort of ones, right?”

“Uh… huh.”

“Right, which is ridiculous, who wants to be cursed, right? Nobody, that’s who. Anyways so we were joking about it and looking through our old books and this one spell comes up about your spirit animal leading your to your true love and all that, and we got all curious because I wanted to know what his spirit animal would be, and of _course_ we were going to undo the spell after a couple minutes, right, because once again nobody wants to be cursed.”

Louis starts to feel like he knows where this is going.

“Right, curses bad, right. So anyway I do the spell on him and he’s adorable. You know he’s adorable. Nobody can resist a face like this.,” she squeezes Curly’s face and the cat squeaks in protest. “But anyway the point it the second I transformed him he hightailed it out of there and I have literally spent months looking for him.”

Louis looks at Gemma.

Louis looks at Curly.

Louis wonders how crazy Gemma is.

“So… why was he human last night then?” Louis thinks about that for a few moments. “Actually, why is he human every night?”

“Every night?” Gemma asks. She swings Curly around to face her. “You’re human every night and you’ve not managed to fix this?” Curly struggles and squeaks but Gemma doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s part of the spell, I’d assume. Most of these go along the lines of turning back once the sun sets. Now listen, Louis. There are more important things to discuss.”

“More important?” Louis asks, affronted. “More important than the fact that you think my cat is the homeless boy who has left his clothes on my couch?”

“No no, don’t be ridiculous,” Gemma interrupts. “That’s part of it. The important part is breaking the spell.” She holds Curly up to his eyeline. “Now kiss him.”

“What?!” Louis protests. “Why?!”

Gemma rolls her eyes. “Because that’s one of two ways to break this spell. He clearly traveled a long way to find you and you won’t even bother to kiss him? Rude.”

“What’s the other way to break the spell?” Louis argues, avoiding Gemma trying to push Curly into his face.

“Not important. Kiss him.” Gemma says.

“Fine! But stop doing that!” Louis says as he gets a face full of cat hair. He grabs Curly, a little rougher than intended, from Gemma and quickly pecks the cat directly on his mouth. This is the oddest day of his life.

It only gets odder though, a moment later, when he is no longer holding a cat, but instead has his hands around the arms of a very naked boy in front of him.

“You’re naked,” Louis tells Harry.”

“Gross, my brother’s naked!” Gemma yells, getting up and throwing Harry’s clothes at him.

“Sorry,” Harry says sheepishly, quickly pulling on his pants and trousers.

“I’m going insane,” Louis says.

“That was a horrible kiss,” Gemma tells him.

“I was kissing a cat!” Louis screeches.

“Yeah and he looked as uncomfortable as you!” Gemma shouts back.

This probably could have continued for quite some time but Harry quickly puts one hand over Gemma’s mouth. 

“You’re not really my cat, are you?” Louis asks him. Gemma rolls her eyes and looks like she’s ready to launch into another long winded explanation but Harry’s hand is still, thankfully, covering her mouth.

“Fraid I am,” he tells Louis. “Sorry, I know this is really weird.”

He’s _blushing_ , Louis realises, and he softens considerably toward Harry’s situation. “Was it weird being a cat, then?” he tries.

Harry nods. “Really weird. Can’t think well while I’m a cat, it turns out. Mostly instinct. And she didn’t get the spell quite right.” Gemma makes an affronted noise at that. “It’s true Gems, I still had all the instincts when I was human! Made it really difficult to, y’know, communicate with people.”

“Is that why you didn’t call?” Gemma asks when Harry finally takes his hand off of her mouth.

“Yeah, totally forgot phone numbers and stuff. Got really confused to where I was, too. One of the first nights I managed to make it all the way home, but right after I got there the sun started rising. That’s how I managed to grab my wallet at least.” he shrugs. “Kept ending up in the same place every night so I just started staying there, you know?”

“You started staying in an alley because your spirit animal was following me around?” Louis asks. It’s certainly a concept to wrap his head around.

Harry nods “Yeah, this is probably really weird. I’m a lot better at spells than Gems is, actually, if this is too weird for you I can just alter your memory a bit-”

“Don’t you dare,” Louis says. “You just spent months as an animal following me around because I’m your true love or some shit, which is quite flattering I think, and you just want me to forget that? No thank you, that’s the sort of thing I’d like to remember.”

Harry grins. “That’s nice to hear, makes my plan of wooing you after I erased your memory a lot easier at least.” He turns to Gemma. “You also messed up the physical traits,” he says. “Really not one of your best spells.” He parts the hair on the sides of his head to reveal two cat ears. “You should probably fix this before I ask him out on a date.”

Gemma shrugs. “Think you might be stuck with those, actually. That was a pretty old book we were looking through, it’ll take me months to learn how to undo those.”

Harry looks to Louis. “Do you mind me having two sets of ears for a while? Will that weird you out too much?”

Louis looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Mate. I’m agreeing to go on a date with someone that I thought was a cat and a homeless boy who just last night was throwing up all over the sidewalk. I don’t think this is going to make it much weirder.”

“You were throwing up last night?” Gemma asks, raising a hand to feel his forehead, which Harry bats away.

“The other part of being a cat is getting an intense love of milk, and then turning human and having to deal with being lactose intolerant,” he says. “It’s been a weird couple of months. I also need to get home and find some clothes that actually belong to me.”

“Oh, about that…” Gemma says. “I didn’t really have the money to float my own apartment as well as yours, so after the second month you were missing I sort of sold your apartment?” Harry makes an affronted noise. “So you really are homeless. My bad.”

“My couch is open,” Louis pipes up. “Until you find an apartment, at least. True love or something, right? We can work something out.”

Harry flashes a thankful grin at him.

\---

Later, at the Halloween Festival when Liam asks how Louis and Harry met,, Louis tells him the truth.

“I just picked up a boy on my way home from work that night and we’re as solid as you and Sophia now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I was planning on this being like 3k... And on being done like, yesterday. I hope it wasn't too wordy!
> 
> Come visit me! I'm [LondonFoginaCup](londonfoginacup.tumblr.com) on tumblr! And if you liked this fic, consider reblogging my fic post [here](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/post/159217629144/you-make-me-feel-like-home)!


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